


Aren't You Kind of Glad We Did?

by HolyCatsAndRabbits



Series: Guardian Angel [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angry Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Flaming Sword, Forgiveness, Humor, M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), True Love, giving gifts to angels, happily ever after!, holy water hellfire and flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 08:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21371383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyCatsAndRabbits/pseuds/HolyCatsAndRabbits
Summary: Aziraphale makes a rather monstrous friend. Also, Gabriel threatens Crowley, and the entirety of Heaven and Hell learn why that's a very bad idea.This is the last work in the Guardian Angel series! I have had such a wonderful time sharing stories with all of my amazing readers. Thank you all so much! I hope you enjoy this one as well.EDIT: I commissioned the wonderful hikaru9 to do part of this fic as a comic! Look for the link in the text"Oh, it really wasn't my intentionTo disregard conventionIt was just an impulseThat had to be obeyed.Though it seems convention we've been scorningI'll still not go in mourningThough my reputationIs blemished, I'm afraid.With just one kissWhat heaven, what rapture, what blissHonestly, I thought you wouldn't.Naturally, you thought you couldn't.And probably we shouldn't.But aren't you kind of glad we did?"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Guardian Angel [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1465615
Comments: 99
Kudos: 369





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes on this series:
> 
> "Stranger is Paradise" is my version of how Aziraphale and Crowley finally got together, after the show’s events ended. The works before this in the series are meant to be read first, but this could probably work as a stand-alone as well.
> 
> Series info: The TV show is canon except that 1) Aziraphale is the Angel of Compassion; and 2) when angels and demons touch, the lower-ranking one bursts into flames (Hellfire for angels or Heavenfire for demons). Aziraphale outranks Crowley, being a Principality, but Aziraphale’s touch doesn’t harm him, and in fact, Aziraphale can heal Crowley if he is injured.
> 
> Titles of these last 3 fics are from Gershwin songs. ["Aren't You Kind of Glad We Did" sung by Ella Fitzgerald](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZxIdI-bOB0).  
[Lyrics](https://genius.com/Ella-fitzgerald-arent-you-kind-of-glad-we-did-lyrics)
> 
> And as always, if anyone wants to do any art of my fics, I would love it!  


Crowley looked at the open jar of holy water sitting on the coffee table in front of him, and then he glanced up at Aziraphale, who was standing beside him, watching him with wide blue eyes. “Well, angel,” he said bravely, “been nice knowing you.”

Aziraphale picked up the jar. “Must you _ really _be so dramatic?”

The late afternoon sun slanted through the bookshop windows and caught the jar in Aziraphale’s hand, almost making it glow, as if illustrating the fact that this water could burn like fire. 

“What if I brought you a present?” Crowley asked hastily.

Aziraphale blinked and a small smile crossed his face. “Did you?”

“Maybe. You won’t find out if I don’t live through this.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “I'm afraid your temptations are quite useless against me.”

Beside them, in another of the bookshop’s cushy brown armchairs, Anathema popped her gum. “Why are you guys doing this again?”

Aziraphale gave her a smile. “Because we’ve discovered that Crowley is able to touch Heavenfire and not be burned. He can use my flaming sword. So we thought that we should test—”

“It’s _ my _ sword,” Crowley interrupted. “More importantly, _ Guardian Angel of the Earth Aziraphale, _ I can touch _ you _ when you’re ablaze with Heavenfire.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks colored slightly, which was a lovely effect. “Well. Yes.”

“And why am I here?” Anathema asked. She had tucked her feet under her on the chair and one of Aziraphale’s books of prophecy was carefully laid on her lap. She and Aziraphale had both pronounced it “nonsense,” but they seemed to greatly enjoy looking through it anyhow.

“You’re here for when we try Hellfire on Aziraphale,” Crowley said, his voice wavering just a tiny bit at speaking the words _ Hellfire _ and _ Aziraphale _ in the same sentence. “In case we need your healing magic.”

Looking completely unconcerned, Anathema pointed a finger at Aziraphale. “I thought the Angel of Compassion could heal himself.”

“Of course I can,” Aziraphale said, at the same time that Crowley said, “I’m not taking any chances.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I _ can, _ and I’ll heal _ you _ if this water burns you. I’ve done it before, haven’t I? Oxford? Edo?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Crowley held his hand out. “All right, angel, do your worst.”

Aziraphale gave him a warm smile, his free hand coming to rest on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley could feel the endless heat of the angel steal through his black shirt and into his body. “Don’t be afraid, my love,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley gave him an exasperated look. “I’m a demon, I don’t need the standard angelic line—” He gasped as a small splash of water landed on the back of his hand. He jerked back instinctively, and a fine spray flew over the book shelf nearest them.

“Are you sure that’s holy water?” Crowley asked, his mouth suddenly gone dry.

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows in curiosity and waved a hand over what water remained in the jar. Crowley could feel a _ whoosh _ of angelic power moving in the room. And then Aziraphale slowly poured the rest of the water over Crowley’s hand, and Crowley’s hand remained Crowley’s hand, unburned, undamaged, in some sense, undeniably _ undemonic _.

Crowley brought a finger up and slowly licked at a drop of holy water. “No. There’s nothing, angel.”

Aziraphale had closed his eyes in relief. “They can’t hurt you now.”

“Well, I mean, they can still hurt me, just not with Heavenfire or holy wat—” Crowley broke off that sentence as Aziraphale started looking distressed. “Well, those are the big ones, aren’t they?” he amended hastily. “So yeah, they can’t really hurt me anymore.”

Aziraphale relaxed into a smile. “Yes. All right. Time then for the Hellfire.”

Crowley’s heart stuttered a little bit. “Right. About that—”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “Shall I say _ do not be af—” _

“Shut it.” Crowley snapped his fingers, letting a plume of Hellfire blaze up from his palm. It was much brighter than the sun coming in through the windows, far too bright for the cozy atmosphere of the bookshop. Crowley glanced from the flame to Anathema, whose brown eyes looked calm and unworried, back to Aziraphale, who was smiling at him.

But just as Aziraphale reached for him, Crowley jumped to his feet, moving back, and the flame winked out. Smoke started to twist darkly among the bookshelves.

Crowley tried to talk, though his mouth was very dry. “Sorry, I—”

An impossibly fond smile bloomed on Aziraphale’s face. “Oh, I should have thought. I’m sorry, my love. I imagine this rather goes against your Guardian Angel instincts, doesn’t it?”

Crowley made some sort of humorless noise. “You could say that, yeah. I just—last thing that’s ever going to be a danger to you is me, angel.” He clenched his hand closed as if to be sure it wouldn’t manifest flames again.

Aziraphale leaned against his desk, casually, as if they were discussing where to take Anathema for lunch. “You’ve _ never _ been a danger to me, beloved. And you never will be. You’re my husband.”

“Wait, hold up,” Anathema interjected. “You guys got married? When?”

Aziraphale gave her a lovely smile. “Oh, we have no idea.”

Anathema made some noise of confusion, but the angel’s attention was on Crowley. “If the Hellfire hurts me, that’s not the same as _ you _hurting me, beloved.”

Crowley sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just—you’ve never been in contact with Hellfire before, so we don’t know….I’m _ scared.” _ The word came out whisper-soft.

Aziraphale stepped into Crowley’s embrace, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. As always, the angel smelled like gardenias and sugar and fresh air. “Oh, my love,” he said softly. “We do have our scars, don’t we? But of course we do, look where we’ve been.”

Crowley hugged him closer. “I can do this,” he murmured against Aziraphale’s forehead.

“We don’t have to.”

“No. I can.” Crowley stretched out his arm, and Aziraphale rested the back of his hand in Crowley’s palm. Crowley slid his other arm around Aziraphale’s chest, pulling his angel in as tightly as he could. And then he let their joined hands blaze up with Hellfire.

“You know,” Aziraphale remarked, watching the sight, “I wonder if we even needed to switch, then, for our trials.”

Crowley blinked out the flame and started examining Aziraphale’s hand carefully. There was not a mark on him. “I have no idea,” Crowley said in a shaky voice. He glanced at Anathema. “Agnes Nutter seemed to think we did, so I’m guessing this happened later, probably when you Fell, angel. But maybe we did this to each other years ago without meaning to, same way we rewrote the rules so that we’re the only angel and demon that can safely touch each other.”

“Yes, we did, didn’t we?” Aziraphale said softly, and Crowley realized that the angel was doing a bit more than _ touching _ him at the moment. He was surrounding Crowley with a warm angelic aura that was calming away the shakes in his body and easing the tremors in his mind. “Either way, even if they figure out the switch now, it won’t matter,” Aziraphale said. He sounded so happy that Crowley brushed a kiss against his white curls.

Aziraphale just laughed. “Now, did you say you brought me a present, beloved?”

“Oh.” Crowley let go of him, reluctantly. Temporarily. “Uh, yes. I did. One second.” Crowley reached out to retrieve an object from the book shelf where he’d stashed it.

Aziraphale’s face lit up with delight when he saw it, and Crowley felt himself relax a little more in the glow of that angelic pleasure. “Oh, Crowley. It’s wonderful,” Aziraphale breathed.

Anathema pointed a finger at the gift, narrowing her eyes behind her glasses. “That’s an empty vase.” When Aziraphale just smiled at her, she looked to Crowley in confusion. “I thought the idea was to give people vases with things _ in _ them. You know, like flowers?”

Crowley grinned. “All in good time.” Feeling more or less in control of his legs now, he sauntered over to Aziraphale, watching as the angel’s blue eyes widened in anticipation. Crowley set the vase on the table, and then slid his hands around Aziraphale’s waist, pulling the angel rather forcefully into his arms. Aziraphale gasped and then his eyes fluttered closed as Crowley began to kiss him, a very light, soft, sweet and open kiss that honestly probably did more to still the last of Crowley’s anxiety than anything involving giving gifts to angels.

When Crowley pulled back and opened his eyes, Aziraphale was gazing at him in adoration, and the vase on the table was filled with sunflowers as beautiful and bright as Crowley had ever seen them. And of course, so was the jar that had held the holy water. “Very nice,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale blushed. “Well.”

Anathema was laughing. “Yeah, all right. That was cool.”

*See this scene in comic form by the amazing hikaru9 here: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986993>*

Aziraphale rested his head against the demon’s shoulder, and Crowley noticed him mentally drift away for a moment. Understanding what that meant, Crowley twined his fingers with Aziraphale’s to be sure that the Guardian Angel of the Earth could read his ethereal message clearly. 

“Well, here’s a real bit of prophecy for us,” Aziraphale announced, opening his eyes and smiling at Anathema. “Traffic accident. Nothing too major.”

“Where?” Crowley asked.

“It’s going to be right outside, actually. Probably why I got the message. Couple of buses.” Aziraphale moved toward the front and the other two followed him, Anathema’s boots clacking solidly across the bookshop floor.

“An accident with a couple of buses qualifies as _ not too major_?” she asked.

Crowley laughed. “For him? It doesn’t get major until we get another Blitz.” He waved Anathema back a bit. “And watch your eyes.”

Crowley stepped out onto the sidewalk with Aziraphale. The bookshop was always quiet, and that had to be something of a miracle because the street outside the shop was always busy and noisy with people who had no idea that they were passing by the home of the most powerful angel who existed. Their Guardian.

“There they are,” Aziraphale said, pointing, and Crowley saw two red double-decker buses approaching each other from opposite sides of the street.

Everything seemed fine at the moment, but Aziraphale must have known better, because he warned, “Eyes, my love.” Crowley averted his gaze as Aziraphale ignited his Guardian glow. The world whited out for a second before it the glow gentled around Aziraphale (somewhat), his form now blazing white Heavenfire with a golden halo, his eyes blue sparks of flame. He’d left his wings unmanifested, to Crowley’s disappointment. No one on the street noticed, humans didn’t normally perceive Aziraphale as he actually was. Anathema was an exception.

“Game plan?” Crowley asked.

“Removing a drunk driver,” Aziraphale said in the mildly displeased way that told Crowley he was quite upset. “He’s about to run a red light and knock one bus into the other.”

Anathema peeked around the corner as Aziraphale waved a hand and everything on the street slowed to half speed, cars, buses, pedestrians, even birds. The noise faded to an odd sort of static-like sound. Aziraphale went to wade out into the traffic but Crowley grabbed his sleeve. “Back on the sidewalk, angel!” he ordered as strictly as possible.

Aziraphale opened his mouth, but instead of protesting, he fell into a chastened smile. “Ah. Yes, my love. Of course. We’ll do it another way.” His voice held a hint of amusement. Whether it was at himself for being foolish or Crowley for being overprotective, Crowley did not know, and did not care, as long as the angel stayed on the damned sidewalk.

Aziraphale pointed. “There’s our villain. White car. Three-martini lunch.” He waved his hand and Crowley and Anathema watched as the traffic came to a complete stop, and the white car rose into the air as if it was a feather in the wind. “Where do you think I should put him, beloved?” Aziraphale asked.

“Police station?” Crowley suggested. “There’s one a block over.”

“Oh, quite,” Aziraphale agreed. He snapped his fingers and the car vanished. Traffic on the street resumed and they watched the buses glide past each other without incident.

“What was the body count going to be?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale doused his glow, his familiar cream and blue tartan visible again.

“Fourteen. Quite dreadful. I took the extra step of making our drunk driver allergic to alcohol. Mild punishment, really.”

Anathema was just staring at Aziraphale as they went back into the shop. “You know, I have to say, Aziraphale, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re scarier than Crowley now.”

Aziraphale looked at her in surprise. “Oh, don’t be silly. Crowley’s harmless.”

Crowley snapped his head up. “_Excuse me_.”

Anathema looked from one of them to the other. “Yeah, he’s really not.”

“Thank you!” Crowley exclaimed.

“Well, I haven’t changed all that much,” Aziraphale said, looking mildly offended. “I’m still the Angel of Compassion. There’s no reason for anyone to be frightened of me.” Aziraphale picked up the book of prophecy he’d been reading with Anathema and disappeared into the stacks to put it away.

“All that power, and he’s always just like this?” Anathema asked Crowley. “He never loses his temper?”

“Well. He gets tetchy. At me.”

“Indeed I do,” Aziraphale called.

“That’s just the way he’s made. Aziraphale can feel anger, but it’s not his nature to act on it.” Crowley lowered his voice a little. “I _ have _ seen it happen. But the only person he ever gets _ that _ mad at is himself.”

Anathema raised her eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Yeah, one time he thought he broke us up and he almost killed someone.”

“Excuse me?”

Crowley shrugged. “I mean, it was Jack the Ripper, so…”

As Aziraphale came back into the living room area, Anathema said, “Still, it makes me think of that quote: _ There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man. _I’d hate to see if if you ever did get angry, Aziraphale.”

The angel made a fond scoffing noise.

“So does that mean you guys never fight?” Anathema asked.

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to see it,” Aziraphale warned, suddenly looking quite serious.

Crowley laughed at Anathema’s surprised expression. “Yeah, no. If you want to watch us fight, you’re going to have to buy a ticket. Because that is _ entertainment _.”

oOo

In the evening, Aziraphale lay on the bookshop’s couch with his head pillowed on Crowley’s lap. Crowley was playing some game on his phone with his sunglasses pushed up on his head, tangled a little in his fire-bright hair. Aziraphale was reading a book, and his own hair was mussed because every once in a while, Crowley would lower a hand and ruffle through the angel’s curls. Pretty white and yellow primroses wound around the legs of the couch and up over one of the trellises nearby.

The fresh flowers were evidence that before Aziraphale had started reading, Crowley had pulled the angel onto his lap on the couch and had spent a while romancing him. Crowley had whispered some quite lovely things in Aziraphale’s ear and then had kissed him with a patient thoroughness that made Aziraphale feel like if he wasn’t careful, he might accidentally fall in love with Crowley all over again, which would be redundant, of course, but Aziraphale wasn’t sure he could help it. It might have lasted an hour, the kissing. It might have lasted a week. Being under Crowley’s spell had the effect of quite removing the angel from the realm of reality. 

And then Crowley had settled the angel onto the couch with his head in Crowley’s lap, and Aziraphale was half reading and half thinking about the time in the twentieth century that he and Crowley had run into each other in Madrid and had shared an ice cream cone. Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure what year it had been, but he knew the ice cream had been strawberry, because he’d had a question in his mind ever since about what strawberry ice cream would taste like if he kissed it out of Crowley’s mouth, and he was just going to suggest they finally find out when a particularly unpleasant type of reality interrupted their evening.

“Aziraphale!” cried a booming voice, and before the angel quite knew what had happened, his head had landed gently on the couch cushion, and Crowley was on his feet in between Aziraphale and the Archangel Gabriel. Crowley’s hand was at his side, empty, but Aziraphale could see his fingers clenching around what might come to be the hilt of his flaming sword, if Crowley thought it necessary.

“Oh, good Heav—” Aziraphale started, and then that sentence fell apart. “Uh, never mind.”

Gabriel did not address Crowley. He looked right over the demon’s shoulder as Aziraphale got to his feet. “Aziraphale! How great to see you. Heard about the, er, _ promotion.” _ The way Gabriel said the word, his purple eyes flashing condescendingly, made it clear that what he meant to say was _ Fall. _

Aziraphale walked as calmly as he could to Crowley’s side and slipped his hand into Crowley’s non-sword hand.

“So how have things been?” Gabriel asked. He was dressed in his usual gray suit, and while the material was no doubt soft, somehow when Gabriel wore it, the suit looked like armour, silver and steely. Cold.

“Quite lovely, thank you,” Aziraphale answered. “How is Heaven?”

“Oh, it’s fine. All good.” Gabriel smiled, showing a lot of teeth. “Just thought I’d visit and you know, ask you to _ call it off.” _

Aziraphale blinked at him. “Call what off?”

Gabriel looked angrier, but he kept his faux-friendly tone. “Your monster thing! Giant bird. Going to destroy all of Heaven and Hell because Earth was almost destroyed. Thought you were above revenge, Aziraphale, as Angel of Compassion, but I guess since you’ve Fallen now—”

Crowley made a snorting noise. “Gabriel, you know you’re not supposed to eat mushrooms that aren’t given to you by a trusted adult, right?”

Gabriel still didn’t speak to Crowley, snapping at Aziraphale instead. “Don’t play dumb! Your Thunderbird! Native American monster bird that calls up storms! Lightning to burn Heaven and rain to flood Hell.”

Aziraphale tried to speak gently. “I rather think I’d remember that.”

“I’m not playing games here, Aziraphale!” Gabriel's voice was loud enough to make Aziraphale jump. Crowley quickly drew Aziraphale under his arm and against his chest, still leaving one hand free and ready for his sword.

Gabriel looked at them with utter disgust in his eyes. And then he was stupid enough to take a step forward. He quickly took several steps backwards as Aziraphale felt Crowley _ change_. The demon’s arm was as comforting and gentle around Aziraphale as before, but his hands lengthened a little, his fingers stretching out until they ended themselves in sharp claws. Aziraphale half heard and half felt the release of Crowley’s wings. The one behind Aziraphale came to curl around the angel, a shield of glossy black feathers between him and Gabriel.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but relax a little in the embrace of his own personal Guardian Angel. The truth was, of course, that physically, Aziraphale didn’t need Crowley’s protection from Gabriel. One thought from the Guardian Angel of the Earth could easily send everyone on the block flying into next week. (In fact, Aziraphale had always been far stronger than Crowley, and now that they were together, it had actually been quite interesting to explore the matter in a, well, _ romantic _ sense, when Crowley would consent to letting Aziraphale use just a _ touch _ of his angelic power to keep Crowley exactly where he wanted him, for precisely as long as he pleased.)

Aziraphale had become strong enough now that even an Archangel couldn’t hurt him. And yet it was always Crowley’s first instinct to step in between Aziraphale and potential danger, and right now—well, this was Gabriel. Aziraphale had spent his life in fear of him. He had his scars.

But Gabriel did not like demons.

“Harmless, am I?” Crowley asked softly as he ghosted his lips over Aziraphale’s curls. He must have manifested fangs as well because his voice was slightly altered.

“Perhaps not,” Aziraphale admitted fondly, leaning his head against Crowley’s shoulder.

Gabriel growled at them. “Aziraphale, you were one of us! Don't you care that Heaven is going to go up in flames?”

The angel felt a smile steal across his lips, drawing the strength of Crowley’s touch right into his angelic soul. “Crowley, my love,” Aziraphale asked, “am I the Guardian Angel of Heaven?”

He could hear the grin in Crowley’s voice. “Nope. I believe Heaven is under the protection of the Archangel Fucking Gabriel.”

“Oh, language, beloved,” Aziraphale chided gently. “You know I don’t like to hear that name.”

Crowley laughed in delight, and the sound grounded the angel even more.

Aziraphale fixed his eyes on the flustered Archangel. “Why don’t you ask God to help you? Or do you think this is Her will?”

Gabriel threw up his hands. “How the heck am I supposed to know. It’s—”

_ “Ineffable,” _ they all said at once.

“Well, if it’s not you,” Gabriel growled, “you’re the Earth-Spirit thing. This is your area now. _ Do something!” _

Crowley looked down at Aziraphale, and the angel drew in his breath. Crowley’s eyes were pure serpentine gold and black, no white visible, and he had definitely grown fangs, two sharp points in his lovely mouth. His hair glowed like fire under the bookshop’s lighting. “Angel," he growled, "please tell me you are not tempted to _ do something." _

Before Aziraphale could answer, there was a flash of sparks, and the smell of brimstone flooded the bookshop as Beelzebub rose up out of the floor. The Prince of Hell was dressed in black, with a red sash across their chest. They looked too clean to Aziraphale’s eyes, too quiet, too harmless. Aziraphale preferred them when they at least looked like the darkly pitiless creature that they were.

Crowley snarled low in his throat. “Nobody knows how to read a _ closed _ sign around here?”

Gabriel snapped at Beelzebub. “You’re late!”

Beelzebub’s dark eyes opened wide, and what a scene they must have found before them. The Archangel Gabriel with purple eyes flashing angrily, facing off with Crowley, the Tempter of Eve, in all his demonic glory, who probably looked like he’d somehow managed to capture an angel and was ready to fight Gabriel over his prize. Except that it was no doubt obvious that the angel preferred to remain exactly where he was.

“Well, I can see you’ve made some good progress, Gabriel,” Beelzebub grumbled, but then they turned a bright smile on Aziraphale, which looked odd on their unhappy face. “We understand that you are angry, Azira—uh, Princip—ah, Guardian. But maybe we could—”

“Oh, for Somebody’s sake,” Aziraphale complained. “I don’t have a giant bird. We have a cat, and he’s quite normal-sized. We’re not sure what her name is, though.”

“Aziraphale, you can’t refuse to help us!” Gabriel growled.

“He can do whatever the Heaven he wants, Gabriel,” Crowley snapped. “It’s not up to you anymore.”

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s other arm twitch, and he pressed a reassuring kiss against the demon’s cheek. “No flaming sword in the bookshop, please, my love. I’d like to remain the only one who’s burned it down.”

Gabriel actually retched in disgust at the sight of the kiss. “Aziraphale, I can't—how could you? With a demon? You were an _ angel. _ He made you Fall!”

Aziraphale felt Crowley stiffen against him, and for the first time in the evening, Aziraphale felt a little anger. It flared up in him with an uncomfortably cold sharpness. “Well,” he said gently, “that rather depends on which fall you mean. If you mean _ the Fall, _ then no, that was my decision. If you mean falling in love, then yes, that really was _ completely _ his fault. Caring for me, rescuing me—” He glanced up at Crowley’s glorious demonic features. “Running about looking like that—”

Crowley gave a little surprised snort of laughter and Aziraphale leaned his head against his shoulder again.

Gabriel shuddered. “That’s disgusting.”

The anger flared right back up in Aziraphale’s chest, and he didn’t push it down quite as firmly this time. “You know,” he said, quite coldly, “I rather think that it might be in your best interest, Gabriel, if you were to learn the difference between what is good and what is evil.” Aziraphale felt an icy smile cross his lips. “I’m sure Crowley could find you an apple if you’d like.”

Crowley barked out a laugh, his wing twitching against Aziraphale’s chest, and Beezlebub made a choking sound like they were trying to force down laughter as well. Gabriel’s face turned so dark with anger that it started to match his eyes.

“Oh, all right,” Aziraphale said with a sigh, and he stepped out of Crowley’s embrace, coming to stand before their visitors, looking from Gabriel to Beelzebub. “I’ll tell you what you need to know about good and evil, if you want my help with—_ whatever this is. _ No apple required. Crowley—” Aziraphale glanced back at him— “is _ good. _ He is in fact better than all of you, all of Heaven, all of Hell, because his glorious corporation houses the most beautiful soul ever created, and his Fall didn’t dim that, because that is not what the Fall is.”

Normally, Crowley would have made some sort of embarrassed noise and flushed red to hear such talk. Aziraphale knew this because he’d said it several times before, (and he intended to keep saying it for the next however-many-thousand years it was going to take for Crowley to believe it). But now, hearing this in front of Gabriel and Beelzebub, a smile actually crept over Crowley’s face and he looked rather smug.

“Rebellion against God does not make you evil,” Aziraphale explained. “Obedience does not make you good. Everyone has the capability of being both. Which means that I do see the good in you. And I am still the Angel of Compassion, which means that I do love you, Gabriel, Beelezebub. All of you in Heaven and Hell. And you are right, it goes against my nature not to help you.”

This made Crowley growl, and Aziraphale just gave him a fond look. The angel’s voice grew cold again, although he kept it strictly polite. “But you need to be aware that if you even think about disrespecting my husband, I will leave you to your fate.” He looked right into Gabriel’s sickening purple eyes. “And if you go so far as to threaten him, I will show my love for you by giving a well-written eulogy at your funeral. Do not fuck with me, Gabriel. You won’t like how it ends.”

There was complete silence in the room, even from Crowley, although there was a little tremor in him that Aziraphale knew was probably the demon trying to restrain himself from breaking into applause. Gabriel looked astonished and appalled. A growl rose from the Archangel’s throat, but it died as Aziraphale calmly let his eyes blaze up with their Fallen glow. Blue Heavenfire threw shadows across the bookshop, a flickering mix of light and darkness across the front of Gabriel’s suit. Aziraphale looked at Beelzebub as well, and the Prince of Hell took a couple of prudent steps backwards.

“Sure!” Gabriel said, in a forcibly pleasant tone. “I can accept that.”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale back into his arms. “You are far too nice, angel.”

“Well, that’s me,” Aziraphale told him, letting his eyes return to normal. “You do you, my love.”

He looked up to see Crowley grin in a delightfully demonic way and Gabriel flung a hand out, pointing at him. “You keep him under control! You’re his—his _ spouse_.”

“That’s...that’s not how it works,” Aziraphale said slowly.

Crowley tightened his arms around him and pressed a rather possessive kiss against Aziraphale’s curls. “You know, that explains a _ lot _about what you went through up there, angel.”

With a harshly disapproving look at Gabriel, Beelzebub spoke up. “Princ—Guard—”

“Aziraphale is fine.”

They nodded. “Aziraphale, we don’t know much. This morning messages arrived at Heaven and Hell saying that we had two days until the Thunderbird would destroy us all. It is—it is very kind of you to help us. I must say I’m surprised.”

“Of course you are,” Crowley spoke up. “You’ve never met a real angel before.” He entwined his fingers with Aziraphale’s. “There’s only the one.”

Aziraphale tried to hide a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Beelzebub said _ thank you. _ Gabriel did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [quote](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/177007-there-are-three-things-all-wise-men-fear-the-sea) is “There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.” by Patrick Rothfuss, from [The Wise Man's Fear,](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1215032.The_Wise_Man_s_Fear) which I have not read, but I somehow knew the quote.


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley stood with Aziraphale on a grassy bluff overlooking the Missouri River. The wind was pushing at them, ruffling Aziraphale’s white curls. Crowley could see farms and a couple of little towns dotting the landscape, but the sky was empty of anything but the occasional airplane track. “So what’s a Thunderbird, exactly?” he asked.

“It’s a sort of Earth Spirit.”

“Like you.”

Aziraphale twisted his mouth a little. “Well—broadly. He’s got a little more divinity in him than I do, I believe. A little higher on the ladder, as it were.” The angel reached out a hand to pull Crowley up the last few steps to the top off the bluff. Crowley kept his hand when he got there, interlacing their fingers, and Aziraphale smiled at him. “Essentially, It’s a giant Bird that creates storms. Its wings form the winds and thunder. It has lightning for eyes—”

“Like you.”

“Er—yes. And It also brings rain. It protects the Earth—”

“Like you.”

The angel frowned at him and Crowley hid a smile. “It protects,” said Aziraphale with practiced patience, “but It can also destroy, if It gets angry. And I think that’s what’s happened with Heaven and Hell. They nearly wiped out most of the Earth, and it seems the Thunderbird is feeling rather tetchy about it.”

It was odd to stand out here in the country and see the peace of the place, the grasses and river and human towns, and to think about it all destroyed. It made Crowley feel a little sick.

“And It would make a formidable enemy, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale went on. “Lightning to burn Heaven and rain to flood Hell aren’t idle threats. The Sioux believed the Thunderbird used lightning bolts to protect them from the Great Serpent who lived underwater, and the rainstorms that It caused—”

Crowley yanked on the angel’s hand. “Whoa, hold on, back it up a second. Back, back everything up, Aziraphale. The Thunderbird’s nemesis is a _ giant serpent?” _

“Oh—_ oh.” _ Aziraphale’s face fell. “Well, I’m sure in your human form—”

“Right. I’m sure. But you’re going to win the fight against It anyhow, won’t you?”

“Fight It?” Aziraphale looked surprised, his pretty blue eyes matching the endless sky behind him. “Why would I fight It? We’re on the same side.”

“Right. Yes._ Broadly. _ But if you don’t fight It, Aziraphale, how are you going to protect Heaven and Hell?”

Aziraphale frowned. “Well, I assumed we’d talk it over,” he said lightly.

“You can talk to Thunderbirds?”

“Ah—”

“And of course we need to actually _ find _ the Thunderbird,” Crowley reminded him. “How are you planning to do that, exactly? Why are we in—where are we?”

“Iowa.”

“Because you didn’t get an ethereal message on this one, may I remind you.”

“You’ve reminded me several times. I didn’t get a message because Heaven and Hell aren’t my domain.”

“Yes, you’re making my point for me.”

Aziraphale sighed patiently. “It could have happened immediately, you know, the Thunderbird. Without enough time for them to ask me for help. But it didn’t. It would be untold suffering, my love.” The angel’s expression was as beautifully sympathetic as ever. “I can’t just stand by.”

“You are the world’s biggest, most idiotic sap, Aziraphale.”

“Thank you, beloved,” the angel answered with a smile. Crowley pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him. 

“Anyhow,” Aziraphale said, “I can feel It here, the Thunderbird. By this river. Somewhere.”

“Well, hopefully It will sense your internal glow, and—”

The angel made an irritated noise. “I don’t have an internal glow that attracts animals, we’ve been over this.”

“Huh. Sure about that?”

“Oh. Oh, my,” the angel whispered, as the sky darkened above them. What looked almost like storm clouds were wings, black edged with red where they caught the light, a body white as snow, and a golden beak that glinted in the sun. And the thing kept getting bigger and bigger as it got closer.

Aziraphale, of course, made a delighted noise. “Oh, Crowley. Isn’t It glorious?”

“Sure! Giant Bird that electrocutes snakes. Very nice.”

Aziraphale put up a hand to wave to the creature, as if It hadn’t noticed them yet. It clearly had, and though Crowley pulled the angel’s arm back down, the Thunderbird was definitely coming to meet them. Crowley concentrated on not looking anything like a snake, even miracling his glasses darker than normal to hide his yellow eyes.

When the Thunderbird landed, the wind from Its wings almost knocked them over. Crowley managed to steady them, but it was a near thing. 

The Thunderbird had to be at least twelve feet tall, and this close, Crowley could see that Its wing feathers were more than just black and red. They shone with a multi-colored radiance, depending on how they moved in the sunlight, almost like a hummingbird. The body and head, though, were a pure white, and the hooked beak a bright gold. Enormous green eyes shifted in their sockets, watching the angel and demon carefully.

Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, and shrugged, as if to say _ Here goes_. Crowley raised his hand by his side, ready to snap the angel and himself back to the bookshop the minute the Bird made an aggressive move.

But Aziraphale was an _ angel, _ (the only real one there was), and by nature he was calming, soothing, and gentle. A soft golden glow rose up around his form, and Crowley could almost see the love Aziraphale felt for this new creature, the lack of fear, the peace he could find even in Its monstrous presence. Aziraphale approached more closely and the Thunderbird relaxed Its wings, moving one slightly to shield the angel from the wind that blew over the bluff.

“Hello,” Aziraphale said, with a smile. “It’s so kind of you to come and meet us.” The Bird dipped Its head a little, low enough for Aziraphale to put a gentle hand on Its beak. The angel startled a little and then broke into a smile. “Oh, my,” he said breathlessly. “Much higher on the ladder, aren’t you?” He shot a delighted grin over his shoulder at Crowley. “It feels like the whole _ world, _ my love.”

Crowley was afraid to draw too much of the serpent-electrocuting-Bird’s attention, so he just smiled back nervously. 

The Bird moved a little and Aziraphale turned back to It. “I know,” he said softly. “I know that you’re angry. I feel it too.” He seemed to be listening to something and then he said, “I’ve come to plead for them, I’m afraid.”

The Bird shifted and Aziraphale took a step back, his hand falling from Its beak. Crowley raised his hand, ready to snap, but Aziraphale didn’t look scared. He did manifest a stronger glow, though. The Bird fixed him with a huge green eye.

Aziraphale gave him a saddened smile. “Oh, I can’t promise that, my dear. They want their war so badly. They always have.”

Crowley spoke up suddenly. “I’ve been thinking about that, angel. Maybe we could—”

But Crowley was interrupted by a flash of ozone and brimstone that nearly knocked him off his feet. With impeccable timing, Gabriel and Beelzebub manifested themselves on the hilltop and the Bird _ screamed_. Crowley reached for Aziraphale, but bless him, the angel was already in his arms, extending his warm angelic glow right around Crowley. Protecting him, Crowley realized. Making sure the Thunderbird knew that Crowley was with Aziraphale, and not Heaven or Hell.

Beelzebub had the good sense to immediately realize their presence wasn’t wanted, and the Prince of Hell backed away and assumed a non-threatening pose. They were even smart enough to miracle their usual red sash away, lest it attract the Bird’s attention. 

Gabriel was the same stupid ass he always was. “So!” he boomed. “This is your friend, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale chose to ignore the Archangel and focus on trying to calm the Earth Spirit. He took a couple of steps toward It, and the Bird seemed to settle a little, to Crowley’s great relief. Aziraphale reached up to It and the Bird inclined Its head again, enough for Aziraphale to touch It on the beak.

But then Gabriel yelled again. “Aziraphale, I am talking to you!”

The Bird reared away, and Aziraphale shot Crowley a desperate glance. Crowley caught his meaning clearly. He took half a step, swung his arm, and punched the Archangel Fucking Gabriel right in his stupid face. Gabriel went down like a lead balloon, and Crowley was there to lean over him and smile at him, with fangs grown sharp in his mouth. “If you don’t have the brains to let Aziraphale try to protect you, then please, go ahead and get up. But if you’d like to live through this, and save Heaven, I suggest you let your superior handle things from here.”

Gabriel stared up at him with blood trickling out of the side of his mouth. His gray suit was no doubt collecting grass stains and wrinkles. Crowley flexed his hand and found that it wasn’t sore, but tingled instead with the warmth of angelic healing. He grinned up at Aziraphale, who was staring at him in unabashed adoration.

“Fuck,” Crowley groaned, standing up. “I have wanted to do that for so long.”

Gabriel, for his part, stayed down and silent. The Thunderbird, however, was still agitated, and moved Its head to where Aziraphale couldn’t reach it. Aziraphale took a step back, putting his hands up in a pacifying gesture. It had little effect.

As the Bird reared back, Aziraphale yelled, “Crowley_, down!” _Crowley obeyed immediately, crouching low as the Thunderbird swung a wing in their direction. Angelic magic created a grassy berm on top of the bluff, a ridge behind which Crowley could take shelter. 

“Eyes!” the angel called, and Crowley ducked down behind the berm as the Guardian Angel of the Earth assumed his full Fallen form. As bright white Heavenfire filled the air, Crowley was not terribly surprised to be joined behind the berm by Beelzebub, the tiny demon folding themself completely behind the shelter. The two of them peeked up again when the glow had receded, and Beelzebub’s eyes widened as they took in Aziraphale’s appearance—white Heavenfire around him, a golden halo, and blue sparks for eyes. And his wings had manifested this time, white, silver, and gold, twice Aziraphale’s size. Aziraphale had to float in the air to extend them fully.

The angel was still dwarfed by the Thunderbird, who screeched again, and then flapped its wings. Crowley and Beelzebub were immediately joined by Gabriel behind the berm as a huge gust of wind swept over the bluff. Gabriel’s purple eyes were as wide as Beelzebub’s. 

Crowley glared at them both, and his voice came out as a snarl. “If anything happens to him because of you—” 

They at least had the good sense not to answer that. Gabriel had rubbed the blood off of his mouth and it stained his sleeve now, a blotch of red marring the otherwise featureless gray. He seemed scared, and that warmed Crowley’s heart.

Crowley could feel no fear from Aziraphale, only a steady aura of peacefulness that the angel was trying to communicate to the Spirit. It still wasn’t working. With a terrible scream, the Thunderbird lifted off of the ground. The Archangel and the Prince of Hell took shelter, but Crowley managed to stay up long enough to see Aziraphale move himself out of the way. Gabriel peeked around the side of the berm, and then he gave them a somewhat panicked look. “There’s—”

And then they were all three staring as an angry maelstrom of air whirled itself toward them. A tornado. It roared as loud as an oncoming train.

The Archangel and the Prince of Hell both yelled to Aziraphale, but he didn’t seem to hear them. Crowley sighed and propped his arms up on the berm. “Oi, angel! On your left!”

Aziraphale immediately turned his head at Crowley’s voice. And although his eyes weren’t really visible behind the blue flames, Crowley saw him startle a little as he took in the gray funnel tearing across the sky. Aziraphale waved an irritated hand at it and the tornado quickly spun itself out.

Gabriel sat there with his mouth open. “He can’t do that.”

Crowley regarded Gabriel a moment, and then said, “I’ll let him know.”

Thunder rolled, and above them, the skies opened up. Torrents of rain cascaded over the bluff. 

“Ah,” Crowley remarked with a smile. “Lovely weather we’re having.”

Gabriel and Beelzebub gave him water-logged glares. Crowley was, of course, completely dry.

oOo

Aziraphale had also miracled the rain away from himself, but largely on auto-pilot, his attention caught up with the Thunderbird. Aziraphale could feel anger from It, which was manifesting in wind, thunder, and rain. And there was fear, and Aziraphale understood that in his very heart. When Gabriel and Beelzebub had appeared on the bluff, Aziraphale had felt exactly the same thing.

But Aziraphale kept to his mission, partly just because he didn’t want the Thunderbird to feel so much pain. Aziraphale had nowhere near the Earth Spirit’s strength, but he did his best to try to provide It with some peace.

He could feel the Thunderbird’s question as It regarded the tiny angel in front of it. _ WHY? _

“It’s my nature to have compassion for them, I suppose,” Aziraphale answered. “And their suffering buys me nothing. It can't erase what they did to me, or to Crowley.” Thunder cracked across the sky, and Aziraphale shot another glance toward the bluff where Crowley was sheltered. He didn’t want lightning to get too close to him.

“To be honest,” Aziraphale admitted, “I do sometimes I wish I didn't feel anything for them at all. It makes me very mixed up. But it also brings me peace.”

The Bird spoke to him again. 

_ LET ME SEE. _

And then it wasn’t raining any longer, and the wind vanished, but Aziraphale was suddenly pulled in several directions at once. The feeling was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It was like what kept him together was unbuckled, unclasped, opened, and what had been inside was suddenly outside.

He could hear Crowley yell, “Angel!”

“I’m all right,” Aziraphale called back. “It isn’t hurting me.”

The sky was suddenly full of a kaleidoscope of colors, rainbows and swirls and starbursts, and it was all _ Aziraphale _. “Oh, my goodness,” the angel said, as he regarded what seemed to be his very soul, spread out across the heavens.

Aziraphale could recognize most of the parts instinctively—there was a blue river of poetry, a glittering amethyst gem of dance set into a golden ring of music. A cascade of giant, jewel-toned stars, each one a different favorite taste. Flowers were everywhere, of course, but not a one had its usual scent—they all smelled richly of campfire smoke. Of _ Crowley. _

And across the whole landscape, there was a lovely glow of firelight. Flames blazed everywhere throughout Aziraphale’s soul, white with a pearly sheen, flickering through every color in the rainbow, as if they were made of opals.

The angel felt himself laugh. “Crowley, look! It’s you! Should have known you’d be flames.”

The demon was standing on the bluff with Gabriel and Beelzebub, all staring up Aziraphale’s soul. Crowley was grinning. “I figured the flowers were me,” he called.

“Oh. Yes, they are, of course. The flowers are my love for you. But the flames—” Aziraphale doused his Guardian glow and magicked Crowley into the air beside him. Aziraphale settled into the demon’s embrace with a sigh, his back against Crowley’s chest, with Crowley’s arms wrapped around them both. “The flames are _ your _ love for _ me _,” Aziraphale told him. “Do you see? You’re the very light and fire of my soul.”

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” Crowley told him, pressing a kiss to his white curls. The fires shivered and blazed brighter, casting rainbows all across the sky.

Crowley nodded toward the Thunderbird, who was hovering near them. “What’s It looking for?”

“My compassion for Heaven and Hell. It wants to see how real it is.” Aziraphale pointed to what looked like a forest of cool green and blue trees, dotted with spots of pink that could almost be birds.

“That’s your compassion, angel? It’s gorgeous.”

The flames blazed up again and Aziraphale laughed. “You’re distracting everyone, my love.”

“I’m sorry.” Crowley did not sound sorry.

“The dark shadows, that’s the fear and anger,” Aziraphale told him. They showed themselves here and there in the angel’s soul, barren patches. Scars. They were more crowded around the forest, as if the two parts of Aziraphale’s soul were fighting over territory.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley whispered.

The Thunderbird tilted Its head to look back at Aziraphale himself, and suddenly, the angel was being put back together, neatly arranged and fastened again. Crowley held Aziraphale while he sneezed twice and then hiccuped a laugh. “Well, that was new.”

“You all right?”

“I’m just fine, beloved.”

Crowley tightened his arms around him. “So what did It think?”

“It believes me about what I feel. But It wants something I can’t give It. A guarantee that they won’t do this again.”

“Well, then, it might be time,” suggested the demon, “for a little temptation. If you can convince your friend to let me try.”

“Oh, It’s very fond of you,” Aziraphale assured him. “Just don’t, ah—”

“Turn into a you-know-what?”

“Yes. I would avoid that.”

“Noted. Set me back down, angel.”

Aziraphale brought them both down to the grassy bluff. The Thunderbird landed as well, and Crowley held onto Aziraphale a moment to be sure he wasn’t knocked over by the wind.

“So did you figure out how to control It?” Gabriel demanded, looking rather cruelly excited.

Aziraphale stared at him. “I can't control It, Gabriel, It’s far stronger than I am. This isn’t about control.”

Beelzebub looked frightened. “So It’s going to destroy us then?”

“Possibly,” Crowley answered. “Unless we come to a deal.”

Gabriel’s purple eyes flashed with anger. “I knew it! This was all a set-up! Go on, then,” he growled. “What are your demands, Aziraphale?”

Crowley answered him calmly. “Leave the Earth alone. Humanity, flora, fauna, all of it. Don’t fight your battles here. Don’t ever fight against humans. If you agree to that, Aziraphale might be able to get It to spare you. No guarantees.”

Beelzebub looked like they were considering it, and as they were a demon and used to crafting deals, Aziraphale imagined that they had probably seen this coming, and thus had been considering it for some time. They started to say, “Az—”

But they were cut off by Gabriel’s voice, sharp and horrid. He pointed at Crowley. “Don’t you dare to try a temptation on Heaven. We won’t all Fall for you, demon.”

Aziraphale took a step back, towards the Thunderbird, which was twitching a little, restlessly. “Gabriel, you can’t do it this way," he warned. "I can’t overpower It. It will destroy you.”

“Right,” Gabriel snarled. “It’s your pet, and we all know it. Enough threats, Aziraphale. This ends now.”

Crowley, of course, stepped between Aziraphale and Gabriel, and this time the demon materialized his sword. Bright blue heavenfire danced along the blade.

Gabriel didn’t look terribly surprised to see that Crowley could withstand Heavenfire, probably because Gabriel thought Hell had failed to kill Crowley with holy water. But Gabriel still sneered at him. “Heavenfire can't hurt me.”

“Right,” Crowley said, with an irritated huff, “the thing about a sword, you stupid git, is that it doesn't need to be _ on fire _ to hurt you. But if you’d prefer—” The demon put up his other hand and a plume of Hellfire sprang up in his palm, as bright as his scarlet hair.

Gabriel advanced on Crowley, now with a sword in his own hand, and then they were fighting, actually fighting on top of the bluff, a blur of swords and different colored flames. 

Aziraphale took several more steps backwards, until he was standing in the shadow of the Thunderbird, and he could feel Its curiosity as It waited to see how Aziraphale would handle this.

And Aziraphale didn’t know how to handle it. He was so angry at Gabriel, and he understood it suddenly, what Anathema had said. That _ the anger of a gentle man _was something to fear. Because this anger burned so cold, and Aziraphale wasn’t used to it, he didn’t know what to do with it. He thought he might break. He was always so warm, and now he was nearly mad with cold.

Aziraphale could kill him. He could kill Gabriel, it wouldn’t be difficult, not now, not with the power that Aziraphale could summon and the cold in his heart.

But if he lost his temper now, the Thunderbird would see it, and maybe it would all have been for nothing, a test of compassion in action that failed miserably, and maybe everyone in Heaven and Hell would die.

And Aziraphale didn’t want to feel so cold. It hurt so much.

Aziraphale found himself speaking up almost before he meant to. “I refuse to deal with Gabriel any longer.”

The swords clanged once more and then everyone was standing still, staring at Aziraphale. He took in a brave breath. “If Heaven would like to discuss the situation, I am happy to speak with Michael or Uriel.”

Gabriel shouted at him again. “I speak for Heaven!”

“Not anymore you don’t.”

Gabriel lunged forward. And Crowley was facing the wrong way, not looking at Gabriel, his attention on Aziraphale, and the Archangel had raised his sword. The silver of it caught the sun as it descended toward Crowley’s chest.

Everything happened rather quickly, and for Aziraphale, painfully. There was the sound of the Thunderbird screaming. There was a wind. There was a blinding brightness around Aziraphale’s figure as he ignited his Guardian glow, there was Gabriel, also screaming, being held into the air, his sword burning away to nothing. The Archangel himself burning.

“Don’t you touch him!” Aziraphale was finally screaming too. “Do you have any idea what I went through just to be allowed to love him?”

And then Aziraphale heard compassion speak to him, and it was with Crowley’s voice. And Aziraphale could feel peace too, and it felt like Crowley’s hand gently taking his own, lacing their fingers together, and for the first time, Crowley’s touch felt marvelously warm. Aziraphale realized that it was because he himself was so cold.

“Angel,” Crowley said softly. Aziraphale looked at him in confusion. “You have me,” Crowley said. “I’m here, we’re together. You have me. And I don’t care about him.” He nodded at Gabriel. “But I care about you, and I know you won’t be okay if you kill him. It will hurt you too, and I don’t want that for you. You’ve suffered so much already.”

Aziraphale let out a halting sob and then he let Crowley draw him into his arms. Aziraphale’s harsh glow went out, and all he felt was Crowley, the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart, his smoky scent.

And for one second, Aziraphale could suddenly see Crowley’s soul, as Crowley pulled him in more closely than perhaps they’d ever been, at a moment when Aziraphale needed to know the truth about so many things.

There was only one color in Crowley’s soul, only one shape, only one piece. It was beautiful, blinding, golden. It was Aziraphale. It was trust, and friendship, and worship, and a more concentrated, powerful love than Aziraphale had known existed in the universe. There was no ending to it, no beginning. It existed without condition, without the need of promises or negotiation or guarantees. It was _ holy _.

Thousands of years ago, Crowley had quarrelled with God, had felt Her wrath and had pushed back against Her angrily, and he’d been cast out. God had tested Crowley nearly to destruction for no reason Crowley could ever find, and She’d made him feel that it was his fault. And then Crowley had met an angel on a Garden wall and _without_ _a single question,_ he’d made room in his soul to feel Divine love again.

Crowley had been able to _forgive_ _God_. Aziraphale was stunned by the revelation that there really was only one true angel in the world. And it was Crowley.

Aziraphale wept in his arms, and Crowley held him as strongly as ever. Aziraphale let Gabriel fell gasping to the ground, his white wings singed black in places. He stared at Aziraphale in shock and pain.

“I never really understood it before,” Aziraphale said. “What it truly means that you can’t understand the difference between good and evil. You care nothing for the scars you cause, and you think that’s an acceptable way for you to live.”

Gabriel shivered, and Aziraphale realized that the Archangel was cold. Standing in Crowley's gentle embrace, able to feel God clearly, Aziraphale used his angelic power to warm Gabriel, and then with a blaze of Heavenly light, he cleared away the burns and ashes on Gabriel’s wings.

And then he sent Gabriel away, back up to Heaven.

Beelzebub was looking at them in shock. Aziraphale gave them a nod, and they spoke, in a reverential, wavering voice. “You have a bargain with Hell, Aziraphale. And we appreciate it.”

Aziraphale nodded.

Beelzebub glanced from the angel to the Thunderbird. “With complete respect, Guardian— Guardians—if you did set this up to protect the Earth, it would be a master stroke.”

“_We _ didn’t,” Crowley answered. “Doesn’t mean no one did.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Her,” Aziraphale whispered.

A moment later, Michael appeared on the bluff, looking confused and shocked. Her face was nearly as white as her clothes. “I apologize for Gabriel—” she started.

“That’s not your fault,” Aziraphale said. “Do we have a bargain?”

“Yes.” Michael nodded readily. “You have a bargain with Heaven.”

Aziraphale turned to the Thunderbird. “Will You accept it?”

The Thunderbird’s giant green eye met Aziraphale’s eyes. 

“You have Its forgiveness as well,” Aziraphale said. “But It won’t forget. And if you threaten Earth in the future, you have to know that I won’t plead for you again, even if it breaks my heart to do so. This is on you now.”

Michael and Beelzebub nodded. 

“And if _ anyone ever _lays a hand on Crowley—”

“No,” Michael answered quickly. “I don’t imagine anyone would think that was a good idea.”

Beelzebub just stared at them with wide eyes and shook their head back and forth very rapidly.

And then they vanished. The Thunderbird leaned close enough to Aziraphale that the angel could brush a hand against Its beak again. And then with a cry, It lifted up and began to fly away.

“You did it,” Crowley breathed. “I knew you would.”

“I wouldn’t have, without you.”

He could hear the smirk in Crowley’s voice. “Obviously.”

“No, Crowley—” Aziraphale pulled back to look at him. “I would never have survived Heaven without you.”

“Oh, angel.” Crowley pressed a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead and drew him in to lean his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “You know, after I Fell, I thought it was all lies, propaganda, that God makes beautiful things. I saw you on the Garden wall and I was completely ready to believe that you were only lovely on the outside, that you were a facade like all the rest. But you weren’t.”

Crowley laughed. “And _ that _ was a huge problem for me because I never thought that all of that love inside you could be given to one person, and even if it could, I never thought that person would be me. It _ couldn’t _ be me, if it was me, you’d Fall. It was so hopeless that I wouldn’t even admit to myself that I loved you until Mons. 1914. But when I saw you there, bringing peace and love into the midst of war, despite how incredibly angry you were—I think I saw a little bit of that glorious soul of yours that night. I realized then that I’d been in love with you since we stood together on the wall of Eden. Because you aren’t just beautiful, Aziraphale. You are _ everything _that is beautiful.”

Aziraphale felt tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to come to you.”

“No, angel—I mean, to be fair, 6000 years is a really long time,” Crowley said, with a laugh. He pulled back to where he could meet Aziraphale’s gaze, and pushed his glasses up onto his forehead so that Aziraphale could see the golden eyes he loved.

“But do you have any idea how brave you are?” Crowley asked. “For 6000 years, you tried to make it work, you tried to believe what you’d been told about how Heaven was good, and thus could never be _ questioned _ , and when you realized you couldn’t do it anymore, you actually had the courage to leave. But somehow you did it without losing who you were.” His hands gently grasped Aziraphale’s arms. “You _ Fell, _and you are still the Angel of Compassion. That shouldn’t be possible. But you are just too strong to be broken.”

Aziraphale leaned in, getting the demon’s shirt wet with tears, but Crowley didn’t seem to mind. “You saved me, angel,” he whispered. “You chose to Fall so that you would be allowed to love me. And every day you make me feel a little bit more that I was worth it.”

“You _ are.” _Aziraphale said immediately.

Crowley rubbed his hands over Aziraphale’s arms, clearly attempting to cheer the angel’s tears away. “It’s been a long day, angel. Let me take you home. We’ll order in something for dinner, and then maybe I’ll even get you to fall asleep in my arms.”

“I’d do anything for you,” Aziraphale whispered.

He felt a laugh rumble through Crowley’s chest. “Well, isn’t _ that _ an interesting thing to say?”

Aziraphale pulled back to huff at him, finding the smile that Crowley had been trying to tease out of him. “Wicked tempter.”

“I will always be that, angel.” Crowley leaned in to kiss Aziraphale softly on the mouth. “Come along, my beautiful Guard of the Eastern Gate. Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic ties up the last of three loose ends left after "Stranger in Paradise": Aziraphale and Crowley deal with Heaven and Hell once and for all.  
And look, I brought the very last scene of the series back to the very first scene of the series, how cool is that? That was definitely talent, and not serendipity. (ha ha)
> 
> Here is [some](https://prairieedge.com/tribe-scribe/return-of-thunder-beings/) [information](https://www.warpaths2peacepipes.com/native-american-culture/thunderbird.htm) about the [Thunderbird.](https://www.legendsofamerica.com/thunderbird-native-american/) The Thunderbird features in a lot of Native American pantheons, but I picked Sioux because that's what's local to me. (I am not Native American.)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this series. It has let me connect with more readers than I've ever had, and I am so grateful to all of you! Please feel free to check out my other Good Omens fics. Comments and kudos are so appreciated!
> 
>   
Find me on tumblr [HolyCatsAndRabbits](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/holycatsandrabbits)  
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**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Did You Say You Brought Me a Present?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986993) by [hikaru9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaru9/pseuds/hikaru9), [HolyCatsAndRabbits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyCatsAndRabbits/pseuds/HolyCatsAndRabbits)


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